


A Weird Release of Pent Up Emotion

by belovedplank



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Episode Related, M/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 21:30:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedplank/pseuds/belovedplank
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam plays modern songs to release his pent up emotions</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Weird Release of Pent Up Emotion

As Gene and Chris finally pulled him and Ray apart, Sam had to pull himself out of his Guv’s hands before he flung himself into them.

 

Walking a few steps and shoving his hands through his hair and across his face to stop the tears he could feel building, he felt the need increase. Flexing his fists, he started to walk away from the canal and his work colleagues. The mindless violence that had been beating the crap out of Ray had covered the initial pain, but the sight of Joni’s body just kept flashing through his mind.

 

Back in 2006, when Sam Tyler had an emotional problem, he would bury himself in his work – something he had managed even when it was work-related, like with Maya. But here? In 1973, the emotional response he felt as a result in Joni’s death could not be dealt with by burying himself in work –she WAS work! And with men like Ray immediately managing to go for the jugular and blame Sam for her death…no, work would not be a sufficient outlet. Which was why Sam’s fingers were itching.

 

Clenching and unclenching his fists once again, Sam finally started to register that Gene was shouting him. But Sam knew he couldn’t deal with it right now, and that he needed to find another outlet before he completely lost it. So he ran.

 

Flexing his fingers as they continued to itch, it was mere seconds when Sam thought of a place he would find the necessary item to allow him to work through his current state. A destination now in mind, he managed to keep himself from scratching his hands and increased his pace.

 

 Although the self-professed workaholic knew that he used his job to bury his emotions, Sam did have something else which he had used as a release. However, it was a well-kept secret – he could count on one hand the amount of people who knew in the ‘real’ world, and none of his colleagues in 1973 – not even Annie, had an inkling. But his body was begging for its outlet, and he knew he needed to release these emotions before he broke down.

 

Arriving at his destination, he was unsurprised to see it closed, and continued his way round to the back. Knocking at the door, Sam finally gave in and started scratching his hands as he waited for it to open.

 

“Morning there Sam, bit early for you innit? Bit early for anyone, place isn’t open yet.”

 

“I know, and I’m sorry. But I don’t want a drink, but I really need – can I just use the piano?”

 

In all the years he had worked at this establishment, this was one request that had never been made to him. But he could see the desperation in Sam’s face, so stepping back, he allowed Sam in.

 

With a single-minded focus, Sam barely thanked Nelson before walking into the familiar room. However, rather than taking a seat he continued straight on over to the corner furthest from the door, where a dusty wooden upright piano stood, hidden in plain sight and usually unnoticed by the patrons of The Railway Arms.

 

But Sam had noticed. Because, on the rare occasions when work was unable to mask his feelings; Sam would pore his heart and soul into music. As he seated himself at the surprisingly in-tune instrument, he stopped thinking. It did not matter where – or when, he was. All that mattered was that a girl was dead.

 

In spite of the fact that Joni had essentially raped him, she was still only a girl, and he felt responsible for her. The fact that had she never met him she would probably still be alive had not escaped Sam, so in spite of how painful it felt to hear Ray say it aloud; he did feel somewhat responsible for her death. Logically he knew he was not the killer, but this did not lessen how he felt.

 

But if he was to do his job, and finally get Warren, Sam needed to release these emotions, rid himself of these feelings of pain, guilt and despair and focus on doing justice to Joni’s memory.

 

Allowing his fingers to ripple over the keys, Sam knew the tune he had begun was out of it’s time, but he did not care. It fitted his mood and he knew the words. Placing his focus on working though the somewhat complex introduction, Sam was oblivious to Nelson pottering around setting up the bar, with one eye on this visitor. As he finished the introduction and came to the verse, he decided to leave the first verse and go straight into the second.

 

_Let him know that you know best_  
Cause after all you do know best  
Try to slip past his defence  
Without granting innocence  
Lay down a list of what is wrong  
The things you've told him all along  
And pray to God he hears you  
And pray to God he hears you  
  


Yes, Sam always did think he knew best. But he knew he had been right about Warren, and this had just proven it. He was sure ‘God’ had heard him now. His mind had unconsciously turned to Gene, something Sam would blame on the lyrics, for as he sang them, he could apply each line to his DCI.

 

Banging out a forceful chord, he made his way into the chorus, it not actually having registered with Sam that he was actually singing the words aloud.

  
 _Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend_  
Somewhere along in the bitterness  
And would I have stayed up with you all night  
Had I known how to save a life  
  


As he made his way through the chorus, Sam did not register the sounds of banging, or Nelson leaving the room. His entire focus was on making his way through the song, in releasing all this pent-up emotion.

  
 _As he begins to raise his voice_  
You lower yours and grant him one last choice  
Drive until you lose the road  
Or break with the ones you've followed  
He will do one of two things  
He will admit to everything  
Or he'll say he's just not the same  
And you'll begin to wonder why you came  
  


Almost shouting those last few lines, Sam allowed a tear to escape, once again oblivious to what was happening around him, as Gene stepped into the room, stopping still at the sight – and sound, before him.

  
 _Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend_  
Somewhere along in the bitterness  
And I would have stayed up with you all night  
Had I known how to save a life  
  


He could tell that the words were being applied to him, but he also knew the life Sam was mourning his inability to save was Joni’s. From the moment the body had been dragged from the river, he knew his DI would blame himself. That was why Gene had gone right over to the flat himself instead of calling or sending that plod Cartwright. He had to refrain from punching Ray himself when he starting spewing that vitriol at Sam, and had quite enjoyed the sight of his normally calm and collected partner (for that is how Gene saw Sam; although that was something he would never say aloud) laying into his Sergeant, but he had to keep the worry he felt from making itself known.

 

It was pretty open and shut – even if they could not just pull Warren in, so he had left Ray and Chris to it and sloped off after his Deputy. He had to admit that he was surprised at Sam’s chosen refuge, but not as surprised as he was when he discovered what he came here for.

 

Gene knew that there was more to Sam than met the eye; he was smart as a whip and although he came across as a complete mental case at times, he was an outstanding copper when his head was in the game. Regardless, Gene would never in a million years have even considered him being able to hold a note in a bucket, never mind play the piano so well. So hearing that melodious and poignant song coming from his lips; with the additional shock of discovering his abilities as a pianist, well, Gene felt he was perfectly entitled to be standing in the doorway, slack-jawed. And if the sight and sound gave him butterflies, well, no one else but him would have any idea.


End file.
